Eyes Wide Open: Monarch Butterfly

One step forward and a million steps back...or at least that is how it seems today. I went for my PFT and CT today, if you have ever had a PFT and already have trouble breathing, you will know just how exhausting that test actually is. My cardio-vascular surgeon called me and told me that I am in the beginning stages of Emphysema and she is worried that I may have a Pulmonary Embolism due to my fast heart-rate and because I had been coughing up blood. Do not smoke! Not ever! If you are a smoker and you are reading this, please quit! I am only 35 years old and now have to deal with Emphysema on top of everything else. You never realize how stupid of an addiction smoking is until you find out just how much damage you have done to yourself. I do not blame all of my lung issues on smoking...I have lung issues due to my Vasculitis, but, smoking certainly did not help matters at all. They just made everything worse. STUPID ME!
As soon as I came home, I did some laundry, and then just took a very long nap. I did not have the energy or strength to teach the children. I think I am just worn out both physically and mentally. This is just becoming too much to bare. I will not whine too much today because I promised myself that I would not let my illnesses win. I am only human, so I guess I am entitled to a day of whining every now and again.
Let me stop this irrational whining right in its tracks. Let me change the tone of this particular blog right now. I promised myself to be positive. I promised to give it to God and by feeling down all of the time, I am not allowing Him to properly handle...me.
When I was a kid and I was sick, my grandma would watch me because my mother was a single working mom. I was spoiled rotten by my grandmother and I soaked all of her love and attention in (sometimes pretending to be sick just so I could get spoiled more). She used to make me toast when I was sick...but not just any toast. My grandma made the best toast in the entire world. True story. And not only would she make me toast, but she had these smiley face toast cutters...so my toast would always be smiling at me. Almost made me not want to eat the toast. I said almost. I was so lucky to be blessed with such an amazing grandmother. She was so independent, so loving, and when she did get mad...well, may God have mercy on your soul. Of course, her grandchildren were a little luckier than her children were when we got in trouble. But, isn't that how grandma's are supposed to be? I wish she were still here. I miss her so much. I think about her on a daily basis because to my brother and me, she was so much more than just a "grandma". She played the dad role in our lives. Without her and my mother, I would not be the loving and caring mother I am today. Toast...sure sounds nice right about now.
My conversations with my mom have become even more frequent. I realize just how calm she makes me feel. I am sure she is getting quite tired of hearing about my illnesses all the time, but she never lets me know this. She is my very best friend. I can be completely honest with her about I am feeling and she always finds a way to make it all seem like everything is going to be okay. She doesn't tell me what to think or feel. She doesn't give me a long-winded pep talk. She listens and echoes my feelings and fears. She is present with me and she lets me be where I am: sad, discouraged, and bordering on hopelessness. And in some strange way, her accepting presence makes it easier to chip away at all of the negative emotions and find some small ray of happiness and enough momentum to keep going.
I think we Americans are much more closeted about our emotional pain and perhaps that is why we are such a violent culture, the feelings have to erupt somehow. Over the past few months, as I have admitted to my own struggles with my illnesses and the accompanying emotional consequences, many people have opened up to me about their own emotional struggles. I was astounded to learn how many people I knew struggled with depression and grief for literally years without saying much about it to anyone. Now the phrase "walking wounded" seems much more accurate for me. I realize now that we all have hearts that are at least a little broken. Perhaps that is simply the human condition. What is truly amazing is that we march on, broken hearts and all, through our entire lives. We continue to live and love and laugh with our fragile little hearts, running the risk of further pain on a constant quest for joy.
A beautiful Monarch Butterfly landed on me today. I have always believed butterflies are angels. This particular butterfly stayed on me while I did laundry, folded it and put it away, and even made tea. It would flap its beautiful wings occasionally, but, it never flew off. I wonder if that was my grandmother. I see her in my dreams sometimes. And I swear, sometimes I actually feel her holding my hand. I believe that the presence of the butterfly was her letting me know that she is always with me...even if I cannot see her physically. And these are the things that keep me going...knowing that she is there through all of this, knowing my mom is always there, having three perfect children by my side, the greatest man a woman could ever hope for, and the love from wonderful friends and family. These are the things and moments I cherish always.
I do not know what my life has in store for me anymore, but I do know, that I was blessed, am blessed, to have known so much love and joy in my lifetime.
Hang on to all the simple little treasures...because these are actually the really big parts of life.